


Where War Ends

by PrincessMidnaofTwilight



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fluff, For chapter 3, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Slow Burn, adjusted the rating to E for chapter three only, and blue lions shenanigans, do you ever just fall in love, haha just kidding...unless?, he kills me, otherwise, otherwise its mostly just dimileth fluff and the s support, with your professor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-09-01 16:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20261086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessMidnaofTwilight/pseuds/PrincessMidnaofTwilight
Summary: I love Dimitri Fire Emblem and his S support was too short for me, so then this happened? Pls enjoy, it's just an expansion of what's in the gameA few more chapters in is mostly their married life (Blue Lions find out shenanigans) and first time Dimileth (earning that E rating babeyyyyyy)





	1. Chapter 1

One step forward, and then another. Though he was simply treading the halls of the castle--a bit worse for wear, but still intact despite his absence--it was surreal. Memories like phantoms danced around the room, walking alongside him and along the paths in front of him. Melissa, who used to sneak him candies in the castle pantry. Glenn, standing by the entrance to the royal wing, offering him a nod and salute. Sometimes he would offer to spar, insisting he needed more time to train his abnormal strength, to hone it properly. They were opportunities he’d always sought--and regretted each and every single time he was unable to join him. 

He hesitated before the threshold of the family room, where he and his stepmother...that woman, would often spend time--and sometimes his father, whenever his schedule would permit. From time to time she would smile at his father, but otherwise she took up her knitting by the window in silence. He saw her form, hands threading steadily, as she looked towards what he now realized was the Empire. It had always felt wrong, the notion of interrupting her for a childish whim; to show her an assignment or a story he was fond of. Would she have been less distant, would she have made a different choice if he had simply spoken to her more? If he had sought to take that despair from her gaze as much as he could--no matter how silly the topic--would anything have changed?

He shook his head, though it did not dissolve the image of her, staring listlessly. It was only the unpolished, corroded metal at the top of the chair--where his father would often place his hand as he stood beside her--that bore evidence of time’s ravages. The urge to make sure it was removed from the room and the desire to preserve those memories warred within him, until he simply decided to leave it be for now. He moved along swiftly, making his way to the throne room, nodding and greeting the retainers bustling with preparations. The clamor helped ease the phantoms lodged in his memory, the proud sight of his father straightening and directing a wink at him from the gilded seat hazy. Tears burned in his remaining eye, but he withheld them, taking in the legacy that awaited him. His atonement. 

Tall and encrusted with a variety of blue, black, and silver jewels he took in the impressive size--twice his own height. The thought of sharing that quality with the late king made him smile, a means by which he could easily be remembered. It was a heavy responsibility, a crown, to be sure; but something about the idea was also oddly comforting. For the first time it felt like his path was clear. No amount of mourning voices and screams for vengeance could stop him now--there were people here, now, that only he could help. He’d had his fill of violence and war. ...If only Edelgard could have shared the sentiment.

Her choice still...utterly baffled him. What could compel her to mount such a large scale war, and despite the near endless bloodshed and horror it inspired be convinced of its righteousness all the same? Was he truly just lacking in foresight, by comparison? But...no amount of potential gain felt worth watching people suffer, to say nothing of how deeply some felt compelled by faith. Granted some felt little for the church, but others like Mercedes and Marianne--who had found hope and salvation in prayer...the thought of depriving them of that comfort seemed just as inhumane as a blade to the chest. He shook his head slightly. Let Edelgard call him soft-hearted if she must, he was determined to uphold that acceptance and healing were the best answer to difference, not force.

Suddenly jade eyes and hair bloomed in his vision, the warmth of the most important person in his life easing the anxious set of his shoulders. Prof--no, Byleth would certainly agree. He still remembered her amused but tender smile when they all continued to use that title for her, as though that short year at the monastery under her guidance had never truly ended. It was hard not to harbor that admiration, given her near boundless skill and compassion. It was by her tactics alone that they had managed to survive--most especially when he was...not in his right mind, was the only way to put it. He’d spend every day atoning for the horrible things he’d said and done, if that’s what it took to right those wrongs. He could only hope for a long, long life to accomplish those things. And a long, long life to…

He thumbed the ring in his pocket, emerald gemstones flashing in the torchlight. Would it be too much to ask her to spend what was left of their lives together? Granted he could not be sure she felt the same. He would more than understand if his past conduct called her comfort with the notion into question. But...he was tired of being plagued by regrets; both his own and that of others. If she said no, then that would be the end of it. She would remain a cherished friend. However, if there was even the slightest chance she might regard him equally, that she might agree to stand by his side forever...then he would be the luckiest man in all of Fodlan. He wanted every opportunity to make her smile in all the ways she first had with the Blue Lions, to be able to ascertain without a single doubt that she would never be lonely again. She had been the one to light his path for so long, that had reached out her hand when he was nigh on the verge of losing himself. This would be a way to repay that debt, certainly--but it was more than that.

He simply...could not think of another person that understood him so well, that had every faith in him and knew how to support him all the same. He could think of no one that had brought him such peace, that made him smile at the mere thought of them. The first person who had ever faced him as an equal, who had seen the worst...and hopefully what he wanted to be the best of him, in time. 

In truth, he had wanted to broach the subject with her for many moons. But given the turbulent state of things and Edelgard’s unpredictable movements...well, he’d wanted to be sure there was a concrete future he could offer her. 

Invigorated by that fresh resolve, he strode straight out of the castle to secure a horse he’d quickly grown fond of, a black stallion by the name of Xander. Dedue, of course, was already there waiting to hand him the reins.

“Dedue? How did you--”

“I will accompany you, Your Majesty.” 

He gazed at the man for a moment, baffled, despite knowing nothing escaped him. He shrugged helplessly, laughing as he took the reins. “Thank you, Dedue. To Garreg Mach, then.”

Despite some ill feeling in regards to his new personal guard, their efforts to elucidate the Tragedy of Duscur--and the ceaseless instability of years under Edelgard’s crushing regime--was enough to make the public reconsider the severity of those grudges. Both prince and knight alike knew that it would take a great deal of time to ease the wounds mutually inflicted on both lands. But this would be a new beginning among, hopefully, many. Even if hatred persisted, they would simply fight it with understanding to the full extent of their power.

The thought brought him peace as he rode across the warming plains, quite unlike the chill that was already making leaves fall in Fhirdiad. The grasses and trees remained verdant and lush with life, even if signs of waning were apparent in the yellow patches and a brisk breeze. When the sight of the monastery--an unmistakable slash of gray cut into the mountains--surfaced, he urged his stallion even faster without thinking, heels digging into the horse’s sides. Just a little while longer. Just a little while longer until he could see her face again, know the blessing that was her voice. 

In truth, ever since the Tragedy at Duscur, any waning belief in the goddess above had been carved out of him. He’d been convinced--at the sight of such unhappiness, of such widespread powerlessness and relentless violence--that a benevolent goddess could not exist. What omnipotent deity could watch its creations suffer indefinitely, could watch as they screamed and begged for help that would never come? That was no power he wanted to believe in--one that he could not accept.

But...if ever he believed in such miracles, it would be in gratitude to Byleth’s creation. Surely, if there was a goddess somewhere, her only evidence would be in the warm hands of the person he loved most in all the world. In the only person who made him believe--for the very first time--that he wasn’t alone. He shuddered to think what might have become of him if she hadn’t been there but one year ago, gazing at him with such shock and concern. A rueful smile twisted his lips as they neared the entrance to Garreg Mach, marketplace quiet. He had been covered in blood and brooding, withdrawing sharply from her touch as he took in her impossible presence. He would have been less surprised had she simply turned right back around and left him there, affronted by his state and attitude. He would have deserved it, certainly. 

“Your Majesty?” Dedue’s voice cut through his thoughts, gentle but no less clear as they left the horses to the stables. “Please extend my greetings to the professor. Take as much time as you need.”

In the light of the surrounding torches he could see the amusement on his friend’s face, as if he was more than aware of what they were doing here tonight. He fought back the color threatening to flood his face, wondering if he was truly as obvious as everyone made it seem. Even Felix and Sylvain had offered him knowing looks when he ran into them in the capital, having newly ordered the ring. 

He cleared his throat. “Ahem--thank you, Dedue, I will.”

Ducking out of the stables, he made his way as fast as he could to the cathedral, his destination the goddess tower. They had agreed to meet there late into the night because of their mutually busy schedules, though hers a bit more than his; less power to delegate while the church was still recovering. He had been lucky enough to find much of Faerghus eager to contribute to his efforts to revitalize the country, starting with a more efficient and fully staffed castle. Granted, the process was not without its hurdles, but it was worthwhile to find cities doing better for themselves all the same. Both he and Byleth had made it their aim to purge the corruption within the church and state, streamlining their energy into providing services to those in need. Anyone who was to abuse the power granted them would be stripped of their titles, and swiftly replaced. Crests no longer had any bearing; aptitude was the greater measure of achievement.

Needless to say, it was a little ambitious--perhaps idealistic, even. But he could think of no better cause to dedicate his energy, and she seemed to agree whole-heartedly. It was why she had been working such long hours to meet him halfway, dark smudges visible under her eyes even now as he approached her form gazing at the pale blue of dawn. Had she slept at all, tonight?

“Come now, my friend. You must stop staying up so late. Tomorrow is yet another early morning.” He prodded gently with a knowing smile, “Then again, I know that matters little. You cannot sleep, can you? Neither can I, of course.” Perhaps it was for different reasons, but they certainly had one in common; tomorrow they would take up lofty positions.

“I...” His voice faltered at the thought of broaching such a selfish topic so soon, at the sight of her so weary. Bandages peeked under her outfit at her hip, arm, and ankle. “I want you to know I am sorry for making you do so much when your battle wounds aren’t even completely healed yet.”

She shook her head, answering voice soft. “And what of yours?” Her knowing eyes leapt to his left shoulder, as they often did when he was her student, too--though he thought he carried his wounds well. At first it had made him feel ashamed to be so obvious, but now he could only find warmth suffusing his chest at the genuine concern in her eyes. She’d never intended to question his strength, rather she cared too much not to say anything. 

“Do not worry about me…” He patted the newly pink scar, a small price to pay all things considered. They were all alive, and that’s what mattered. “My shoulder has healed nicely. I still have some numbness in my hand, but it should not hinder me too much.”

He fidgeted a bit, trying to think of how to continue. He’d never been charming or eloquent, like Sylvain. He flustered easy, and knew nothing in regards to wooing women--and less still about marriage. All he knew for certain was how he felt, how true and heartfelt his own feelings were. Trying to channel that, he began slowly, swallowing his self-consciousness. “It is a lovely night...Is it not? How many nights has it been since I was kept awake by hopes of the future, rather than by nightmares of the past...”

“Nightmares?” Her eyes were on him, but rather than making him want to hide--as most others’ gazes did--the same calm that infused those jade pools made him relax. Their stillness had once inspired so much fear, but now it was like a spell of sorts--a single glance and the chaotic tangling of his thoughts were suddenly clear and disparate again. 

“I have had the same nightmare for nine long years. A nightmare in which I am constantly tormented by those that have died...They ask me why I have not avenged them...Why I got to live, yet they had to die...” They grew louder at his sudden acknowledgement, and he grimaced at the building headache. It was worse when he had nothing to occupy him, when he had too many moments alone. “No matter how many corpses I piled up for them, in the end, their voices only grew louder.”

“Voices loathing me, calling out to me...Their inescapable death cries ringing in my ears...clinging to my soul...Even now I can always hear them. I am certain I will be hearing them until the day I die.” Shaking his head, he left those demons to their own madness, decision made. “But I will not cover my ears. I will go on living...and their voices will serve as a warning. As a king...and as a wretch who claimed countless lives...I will build a Kingdom where the people can live in peace.” 

Bitterness crept into his voice at the thought of Edelgard’s imperious, condescending smile. As though he were a foolish child, prattling on about impossibilities and fairy tales. Perhaps he was. But if he could create a world where people dreamed and hoped instead of quivering with fear of what they might lose next...then, let her laugh. “I am sure she would laugh and call such talk foolish...But I wish to change this world in my own way.”

Byleth nodded, gaze equally communicating her sympathy and reassurance. He would never forget the way she had turned back to gaze at her former student with such...wounded belligerence. He knew--as much as she might disapprove of Edelgard’s choices, there was a part of her that wondered if she hadn’t done enough to show her another way; because he wondered the very same thing. 

He doubted there would ever be a way to know, and he suspected that the possibility was questionable at best. He knew Edelgard. Had believed in the best of her for years. She had met his regard with lies and unceasing violence. He would have done anything to help her had she needed it. He would have been happy to ally with her, assist in her bid for ascension when the time came. He even would have dismantled the church had he but evidence of Lady Rhea’s divisiveness and wrongdoing. But not like this. Not without explanations. Not without patience or caution. Not without a modicum of humanity. Edelgard’s impatience and insecurity had been her own undoing, no matter her insistence that it was the only way. He understood only because he had nearly paid the same price for such a rash and unfeeling course of action. 

But he’d dwelled on that enough. They would both carry the weight of that memory forever--perhaps the only mercy they were able to extend, given the state of things.

“Well, Your Grace, things will be busy from now on.” It felt a little strange to call her that, but it would be her proper title moving forward. “Our first order of business is tomorrow’s coronation. Once a professor and student...Now an archbishop and a king. How very far we have come.”

She laughed lightly with him, though her eyes were serious and steady as ever. Ineffably grounded. He could only hope he might develop equal maturity in the years to come. “We’re still the same, as we ever were. Only our titles have changed.”

He nodded, relieved to know she felt the same. No matter the formalities, she would simply be Byleth. The woman who saved him more times than he could count. The person who had never left his side. “That is true. To me, you will always be the one who guided me so kindly. My ally through all. My beloved...” He paused, mustering up every ounce of courage he had. “Yes...my beloved.”

Her gaze on him was curious, searching. But he couldn’t detect any displeasure when she called out to him. “Dimitri...” Rosy lips were parted with surprise, and he worked not to let it distract him. 

“Listen…” He took a deep breath, hoping it might steady his nerves. He should have taken off his cloak first, no matter the chill of the night--he could hear his own heart pounding. “There is something I wish to give you before the coronation.” He worked not to squeeze his fingers around the ring, terrified he might break it. “Give me your hand.” 

She reached out and he carefully placed the ring in her palm, ears already burning. Her eyes went wide for a minute or so--it felt like an eternity--as she simply stared at the weighty symbol. When color crept into his face, cheeks aflame, he managed to blurt out in a choked voice, “Please...I beg of you. Say something!”

He worked to ease the nervousness, but the words still felt rushed and mangled all the same. The last thing he wanted was to pressure her into something she didn’t want--it was why he’d wanted to do it in the privacy of the tower. “If you do not wish to accept it, please just tell me. If so, I will face the truth and walk away.”

She shook her head, a dazzling smile blooming across her face. It was unlike any he had yet seen grace her lips, and it gave his panic pause. “That’s not it at all...” She reached into the fold of her robes to pull out a ring of her own, gleaming silver with azure gemstones. “You beat me to it,” She laughed, no hint of discontent in her voice. “I love you, Dimitri. Marry me.”

He stared, dizzy as it all converged much too quickly. His eyes were glued to the ring in his gloved palm, lost. She...she had intended to propose to him as well, tonight? She...she felt the same way? 

“Yes, I see.” He didn’t--not at all, really, given he thought his chances were slim at best. She had given him so much, guided him steady when he’d had nothing to offer her in return. An heir to a broken kingdom, perhaps even more fragmented himself. He’d been blinded by madness for so long...but he wouldn’t make that mistake again. He knew what he was living for, knew that it was acceptable--imperative, even, to choose his own path. And he wanted the one that led back to her, after all was said and done. “Right. In that case, let us exchange them, shall we?” 

He removed the glove from his left hand and extended it for her to take, slim fingers--more delicate than he imagined, given her might on the battlefield--curling lightly around his. He slipped the ring on her third finger slowly, but it was a perfect fit. Overcome with the sight, bathed in the gold light of the rising sun; he curled his hand around hers.  
“Your hands...Now that I hold them within my own, I see how small and fragile they are.” He lifted it carefully to press against his cheek, reveling. “These hands that have saved me countless times...Thank you, my beloved. Your kind, warm hands...May they cling to my own forevermore...”

She tugged his hand back toward her and he followed, watching her slide the ring along his finger--face burning again, though he managed to stay still. She laughed delightedly as soon as it bumped against his knuckle, meeting his eyes in a flash before she leapt into his arms. Her hands met at the back of his neck, squeezing along his shoulders as she held him close. He was frozen with shock, flooded by her warmth--overwhelmed--before he dared to squeeze her back about the waist. 

She sighed happily, nuzzling her face into the part of his cloak hanging over her shoulder. She’d always been so solitary, so reserved when they were together as a class. Sometimes she would offer a comforting hand on their shoulders, but otherwise she seemed to keep a careful distance--much like the others. She’d been a bit more relaxed when out for dinner or sharing tea time, but the strict knowledge of her responsibilities always made her keep a distinct distance. It was a little odd--but not unwelcome--to see her so content in a person’s arms. His own arms, in fact. He was still working on how those two things could be simultaneously true.

“Oh, that’s right,” he brushed a light kiss against the crown of her head, smoothing gentle lines down her back. “You beat me to that part, at least.” 

Curious, she looked up from where she was inching his cloak around her--was she cold?--to grant her full attention. She tilted her head to the side, waiting for him to continue, and he chuckled and pressed a light kiss to the tip of her nose. She blinked, but beamed at him so wide that his train of thought fell apart. Clearing his throat lightly to buy time, he could see a telltale coy twinkle building in her eye at the sight of his discomposure. Professor or lover, if her teasing streak remained intact--he was most certainly in trouble. “I love you, too. Though my proposal was...clumsy, to say the least, I wanted to ask you if you would do me the honor of spending your life at my side. I promise to do everything in my power to make you happy--to be happy with you--for the rest of our days.”

Her eyes went wide, and they glistened a bit, before she nodded--squeezing him even tighter. “Of course I will. And I’ll make you happy too; you can always rely on me, Dimitri. Please, don’t keep things to yourself anymore.”

He could sense the weight of her words--not condemning, but knowing. The best way to keep on his path was to lean on the capable people around him, just as he had every intention of looking after them, too. He nodded, “Thank you.”

At the firm resolve in his gaze, relief suffused her form. In the quiet settling between them, he marveled at the way the sunlight haloed around her--turned her hair and eyes nearly white. The scent of crescent moon tea intermingled with--lily of valley, given the aroma clinging to her hair. Depending on what she was tending in the greenhouse, the scent at her fingertips and shoulders would betray her time there. When he was young he often considered weeding or watering them himself when he was tasked with greenhouse duty. But he was always too afraid he might--in an accidental bout of monstrous strength--mistakenly uproot them. 

A regret among many, looking back at those days in the monastery. How long had she returned his interest? Had it been recent, or had she felt something for him, even back then? He wasn’t at all sure...but he could remember moments when her gaze would linger a little too long, or how her cheeks would appear pink after he noticed her smiling. 

He was gazing at her, unable to help himself, when she smiled softly at him. “You’re wondering when I started to feel the same way, aren’t you?”

For all her levity, she was still razor sharp. “How did you know?”

“Two things,” she began, and he was almost launched back into her teaching days, and her habit of giving discrete lists for them to follow. “One, you were staring into my eyes as though the answer to the goddess’ greatest secrets and treasures were concealed there--”

“It can’t be helped if it’s the truth,” he mumbled.

She laughed, pecking his cheek. “And two, I imagine anyone would be wondering, given we haven’t really had the time to talk about all this. Us.”

“To be frank I wasn’t truly sure there would be an us, I simply wanted to make my feelings clear--if you didn’t share my sentiments, or didn’t want to, I was fully prepared to return to the castle, alone, with the ring.”

She shook her head, and for a moment her brows furrowed sadly. She stroked the hair out of his good eye, brushing it gently behind his ear. “You really don’t see yourself clearly at all, do you?”

His head tilted to the side, waiting for her to clarify.

“Do you remember when you told me I was scary, at first?”

He grimaced, wishing his younger self had been more tactful. “Of course, though I--”

“Don’t apologize,” she shook her head firmly, smiling. “It’s all right. I’d rather you be honest with me. I would have been more surprised if you said you weren’t.” Her eyes were fixed on the sky behind him, gold reflecting in her eyes. “When you first met me, I was emotionless. The thing about being a mercenary, and growing up with them, means being unfazed is an asset. I was never prone to strong feeling, yes, but I also had no compelling reason to show it when I did. So I just...didn’t.” She shrugged. “It became a habit more than anything.”

“For that very reason I earned the nickname, The Ashen Demon,” she grinned, a bit self-deprecating, the rest amused at the absurdity. “It was a bit dramatic for my tastes, and not exactly flattering, so I didn’t really use it when introducing myself. People...well, people used to think it was fun to try to get a rise out of me.” Goosebumps alighted across her arms and his eye widened, gently wrapping his cloak around her and holding her closer. “Thanks.” She snuggled into the fabric.

“And then I came here, fully dreading the stares and the pointing and suspicious murmurs. It’s just part of the job when you’re a travelling merc. After a point, you stop caring,” she shrugged again, “I always had my father. I counted myself lucky to have a parent and food in me most days. I’ve seen worse.” Her lips thinned into a firm line. “So imagine my shock when this little gaggle of kids--just a few years younger than me--asked me to lead them in their mock battles well. I was apprehensive to say the least.”

“I was a contract killer, not a teacher! I’d never taught a kid anything in my entire life! I had no qualifications to speak of.” He could only imagine how frazzled she’d been at the time, only the slightest concern had bled through that impassive mask. “But I did have plenty of practical experience, and honestly, I think that’s what counts most in a fight. You need to know that your body will react when the time comes; no amount of reading or writing can ascertain that. I--” Her voice broke a bit, “I’m glad if it helped you all survive until I could find you again.”

It was true that she was harder on them than the other two professors, but they had also won every combat simulation with the other houses--to say nothing of the war Edelgard started. They would need to show proper gratitude for that at some point, but it could wait until she was finished explaining, at the very least.

Her smile grew adoring and fond, the same look she wore whenever they called her professor. “Funny thing, you all looked so eager and so lost, I just couldn’t help but take over as best I could. I thought to myself, even if I was awful at this, I’d try anyway.” She met his eyes again, tenderness bringing her eyelids down low. “You were all counting on me, after all.”

“I’m happy to know what you were thinking, but what exactly does this have to do with me?”

She gently took hold of his hand, and guided it to her heart. He waited again, relieved she was being so talkative. He liked being able to understand her better, and he loved the sound of her voice. It wasn’t particularly high or low in pitch; it was a unique, rich mid-frequency that was so soothing. 

“I know the two things aren’t necessarily tied, but you know my heart doesn’t beat. And for the longest time, I went living--surviving, really--without feeling anything. Do you want to know the first time someone ever made me feel something?”

His eye widened. It couldn’t possibly…

“It was the young prince destined to rule Faerghus. He was tall and lanky--a little uncomfortable in his own skin--but measured and warm all the same. He asked me to join in their little celebration over the class’ victory. No hesitation, no misgivings.” She laughed at the memory, like yesterday for her, perhaps worlds ago for him. “And when I wasn’t sure how to respond, he told me it was okay not to know. He told me it was okay if I didn’t know how to share in the brightening mood.” 

“Usually when people see me, or anyone really, unaffected or neutral in happier times, they just leave you to be a buzzkill. Dour and dangerous. But not you--and even if those words were all just an act, which I’m not entirely convinced they were--it was a new beginning for me. It’s what, in the end, truly made me become your professor.” She cupped his shocked face in her hands, the memory returning to him only because he had been so worried about her grave silence. “Dimitri, all it takes to change a life is one outstretched hand. You taught me that.”

“You were the first one to help me understand that feeling could be worthwhile and fun, even if it was with a stranger. You were the one that helped me learn to love Garreg Mach, and everyone in it. Around you, this place never felt like a pious, gilded cage. Just a school with kids that wanted to learn. After that, you know the rest."

He blinked at her, a little bewildered. He'd figured--at the time--that it was only right given she had led them to victory. And though she was a little disconcerting, he'd wanted to give her a chance at least. The fear was a product of unfamiliarity; getting to know her would remedy that, as it would with anyone. He could make his judgements after he’d had enough information.

She'd spent the better part of the celebration talking to Mercedes and Annette, still quiet though listening intently to their bright recollections and explanations. Of course his position had given him cause to remain wary, but even looking back he could remember no noteworthy moments of concern. Dedue had agreed with him in his assessment later that night, and the rest had all warmed to her so quickly he could only guess that she had been quite kind and patient with them, whatever their troubles. 

They had been so at ease with her in just a few short weeks, that any preliminary concerns dissolved before he knew it. Even on the battlefield, she guided them impeccably; cautious but no less bold in her maneuvers. The more they succeeded, the more it was clear she was trying to meet them halfway as best she knew how--that she was well and truly paying attention. What doubt could he levy against her when they emerged, safe and victorious, from every fight? What ill feeling could he muster when even Felix perked up at the sight of her, the remnants of his old self peeking through?

But...even beyond all that, her quirky sense of humor and evaluative silence always brought him so much peace. Whether they were training or simply chatting, he never felt alone when they were together. The others...well, there was always a clear understanding that he would be their king. No matter how hard he tried, it was a barrier he could very rarely eliminate completely. He knew they did their best to behave normally around him, but it remained a fact all the same. He was royalty. No one would ever let him forget that.

And yet, even after learning of his identity, her attitude never seemed to change. She still called him by name, still ruffled his hair when he was being too stubborn or serious (the first time she did it following his recovery, his heart nearly stopped), still smiled at him easily when he thanked her for everything. There was just something so...stable, so grounding about her presence that he’d fallen into their rhythm more quickly than he could ever remember befriending a person. His earnest nature won him positive regard, yes, but this seemed to operate on a whole new level. It was like the fluidity of a practiced blade; enough time and aptitude, and it sang through the air on its own.

He wasn’t sure when living without her became an impossibility, but the moment he’d been able to understand how true it was--she was gone. Among the first casualties of the war, it was reported. In those first days following the tragedy of Duscur, nearly a decade ago now, he’d wondered if it was possible for a heart to bleed so much twice in a single lifetime. Despite everything he’d seen, despite knowing any affinity for another person would only result in more pain, he’d loved her more dearly than he could ever remember loving someone.

He could remember very little of what happened the day he learned of her death.

All he could remember was the blistering, agonizing regret. Every single moment he’d bit his tongue or hesitated for fear of making her uncomfortable, or from his own cowardice. Every meal or training session they’d shared together, every tea time--the recollections colored rosy with her invitation--now henceforth an impossibility. Every moment he’d been able to encourage laughter or a smile from her lips, treasured in the depths of his heart, splintered into countless fragments. 

It had been, perhaps, the final straw.

Cupping her face in trembling hands, his lips found hers just as they tilted readily to meet him. Her hands squeezed his shoulders, one shifting to curl heatedly in the hair at the back of his neck. They met again and again, her lips so soft and so sweet he lost himself. When one hand moved to outline the shell of her ear, descending to trace the length of her neck with a careful thumb she quivered against him, breath coming fast.

Her cheeks were darker than he could ever remember seeing them, painted red--for him alone. That fact only made it harder to resist sinking into her yet again, despite knowing they had much to do for the remainder of the day. 

“If you kiss me like that, I don’t think I’ll ever make it to the ceremony.” She bit her lip, looking at him from beneath her lashes meaningfully. 

He groaned, laughing as he buried his face against her shoulder. Goddess, he couldn’t think straight. He knew he had many responsibilities to attend to today--important ones, to be sure--but he couldn’t seem to recall a single one with her in his arms. 

“You’re incorrigible.” 

“Don’t pout,” he felt her lips brush against his ear, still a little breathless from earlier. “We have all the time in the world, you know.”

Though anxiety like a fist squeezed around his heart at the fear she might be wrong, he worked to remember they were both strong enough to create a future where they could take their time and enjoy what they had. “Indeed we do,” he outlined her sides with his hands, reveling in the way she leaned into his touch and purred a bit, “and I intend to treasure every second of this new life we’ve made, Your Grace.”

“Not yet, anyway,” she pressed her body closer against him in retaliation, “and I certainly won’t remain a holy woman for very long if you keep doing that.”

“At least now I know what to pray for.”

She laughed, and the distinct way it vibrated through him made his heart soar higher than he could ever remember it lifting. Did he have any right to such happiness, after everything? Perhaps not, but she wished it of him all the same--and so he would simply have to become a man worthy of her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I loved the idea of the Blue Lions gang finding out about their engagement, so I went ahead and had a little fun with it! (I think the game finishes the war at around the end of the eighth moon but I couldn't remember when the Heron Cup was, so if the timing is off let's just pretend this is an AU where the dates line up XD) 
> 
> That said, I have no idea where to go from here given I'd be happy to do cuddling fluff or get a little more racy, but I'm happy to tailor it to what people want to see! Feel free to drop a line below if there's anything you're really burning to see, and I'll do my best~
> 
> Thanks for all the kind words and support you've given this fic, you guys! It means the world to me <333

It had been nearly two weeks since the two had officially taken up the mantle of king and archbishop, their lives busier than they’d ever imagined possible. If there wasn’t correspondence to address, there were meetings to attend to and all manner of public inspections. Turbulent times meant--despite general approval towards their dual ascension--that many might seek to take advantage of the political upheaval. Their first order of business was to solidify both their authority and their promises as new leaders. And yet, even royal/sacred duty could not keep them from each other for long.

Hence the shock when he returned to his office to find the desk spotless that evening. Surely, he had several more letters to compose…? A knock sounded at the door, a single rap of knuckles.

“Your Majesty?”

“Yes, please come in, Dedue.”

The man in question entered without delay, neat and serene as ever. But there was the slightest curl of his lips at the corners, something close to a smile hinting mischief. “Your work for tomorrow has already been completed, there is no cause for concern.”

“I suppose you won’t be informing me as to how?”

Laughter seemed to cascade from teal eyes, swirling with amusement. “Not yet.”

He smiled, shaking his head. There was plenty to do, but it seemed he had no other choice--given his work was being held hostage. “Very well then, lead the way.”

The door opened again to reveal a windswept Byelth in the hallway, hair tousled after riding on her favorite wyvern. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright from the crisp chill, her archbishop robes cast off in favor of what she used to wear as their professor. 

She tackled him in a hug and he stumbled back a step, laughing at her enthusiasm. He was glad for the strength that made her near effortless to hold close, her feet a good few inches off the ground.

“Byleth?”

“In the flesh,” she sighed contentedly, warm breath tickling his neck. 

Glancing discreetly he noticed Dedue had since disappeared, giving them a moment alone. “I thought you were still on official business, touring parts of Fodlan?”

She smiled, playing with his hair even as he set her down. “I technically was, and Fhirdiad was among the places I intended to visit. But that can wait until later, we both have somewhere to be tonight.”

“Somewhere to be?” Utterly perplexed, she tugged on his hand and offered no explanation. 

Given her wyvern was in need of rest, she happily joined him atop Xander; Dedue had been found in the stables readying their horses. 

“Am I the only one that wasn’t in on this?” 

“Yes.” They answered in unison, a chirp and a soldier’s affirmation overlapping.

“You have a tendency to overwork yourself, Your Majesty. We have implemented these measures to prevent that.”

“Exactly,” Byleth patted his thigh behind hers, leaning back into his embrace as they neared the main road. “I know being a king is a lot of work, and I understand you want to be there for people when they need you.” Her hand found his where they were guiding the reins, “But you won’t be able to do that for long if you forget to take care of yourself. You’re only one man, Dimitri.”

Had he truly seemed so fatigued? Then again, he  _ had _ awoken at his desk several times in the course of those weeks. When was the last time he’d slept in his own bed? He couldn’t remember, though he knew part of the reason wasn’t just work either. Returning to his bedroom bereft of Byleth...well, it made sleep seem less appealing. Every moment alone or unoccupied meant inviting nightmares and the regrets of the past to overtake his thoughts. He had no intention of going back on his decision to live for the present, but, well...some days were harder than others.

“It’s been a long while since you scolded me like this, you know,” he couldn’t help reminiscing, drifting to those nights she found him in the library much too late, or training into the hours of the morning. 

“You have a bad habit of demanding more of yourself than you can give,” she leaned back to nuzzle her cheek against his. “That’s what I’m here for.”

He held her close, offering the tail ends of his cloak to help keep her warm. She snuggled in as they began to pick up the pace, following Dedue’s lead. Sometimes he forgot just how small she was until they were like this, hand-in-hand, in close proximity. It unnerved him a bit, arms around her loosening their grip. Even so, she seemed content to gaze about the scenery and enjoy the ride, perhaps the only quiet moment she’d had in a long time as well. 

“How have you been, otherwise, Your Majesty?” the phrase was entirely teasing, no trace of gravity in her voice besides genuine curiosity.

He couldn’t withhold a chuckle, playing along. “Well--and don’t tell His Majesty I told you this--but it has been said that he missed his betrothed dearly.” 

Her eyes caught his meaningfully, lip curling as she worried it. “Well, we’ll have to do something to fix that, now won’t we?” 

He squeezed her hip, dropping a light trail of kisses along her neck and shoulder. “And what of Your Grace? Nothing too challenging has presented itself, I hope?” 

“Mn,” she leaned into the heat of his gentle nips, arching a bit. “Always so taciturn, but perked right up at the mention of the king. She simply couldn’t resist making her way to his side this evening.” When he smiled against her skin, she let out breathless laughter, “I think she missed him a bit, too.”

“Just a bit, hm?”   
  
She looked from side-to-side, before leaning up to whisper in his ear. “ _ Terribly _ .”

Then they were both laughing.

They made their way across several spans of main road and around a few towns before he realized they were likely en route to Fraldarius territory, the steady increase of coniferous forest unmistakeable. 

“Are we going to see Felix tonight?” He asked the two.

“Something like that,” offered Dedue. He wondered when he and Byleth had begun to conspire against him. A mortifying thought, given their endless patience and measured humor. They would be running circles around him for a lifetime, wouldn’t they?

Chatting amiably, they covered the last of the distance to the castle and settled their horses in the stable. Felix and Annette were there to greet them as soon as they entered the main hall, subdued furnishings conveying a modest warmth. 

"Welcome everyone, Boar King."

"Thank you?" 

Annette nudged Felix, but otherwise beamed at them. "Welcome guys, come in, make yourselves at home! Everyone else should be arriving any minute now!"

As if on cue, a silver head of hair ducked into the room, melting snow glittering along his knight’s uniform. “Hi guys! Oh--good evening Your Majesty, Your Grace.”

Dimitri had long since tried to assure Ashe that his title meant little between friends, but he’d had trouble kicking the habit even when they were young. He knew the man meant well, and thus offered a warm greeting easily. “Welcome, Ashe.”

Byleth took in the frazzled address with a nod, amused. “No need to be formal, Ashe, you can still call me professor or Byleth, if you’d like.”

“Oh but that wouldn’t be--” A firm look from her made him stop in his tracks, a little sheepish. “Er, I mean right, professor,” he smiled, “Thank you.”

Dimitri and Dedue exchanged a look, lips twitching with withheld laughter; she was a force of nature when she wanted to be, and never big on formalities either. Even as their professor, the lines drawn between them were more established on the grounds of responsibility than authority. That, and well, she seemed to love it when they called her that--her expression always softening instantly. 

Without further ado they seated themselves on the plethora of sofas, sipping from newly brewed tea. Likely Almyran Pine Needles, given the evergreen aroma and the pronounced satisfaction burgeoning on Felix’s face, a brief smirk making its way to his lips. Annette entered shouldering plates full of sweets, some of the best cookies and cakes--many of them recipes from Mercedes--filling the table. Humming, she set a little plate besides Felix’s teacup--a modified assortment given his distaste for sugar--and his answering smile for her was more tender than any he had ever shown before. Byleth noticed immediately and grinned into her cup of tea, reaching for Dimitri’s ringed hand and squeezing it.

He turned a wide eye to her briefly, but smiled regardless at the quiet gesture when he saw the happy warmth in her eyes, squeezing gently back. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, how fares House Gaspard, Ashe?”

“Um, very well Your Majesty, it’s only thanks to you that I was able to revive the estate at all! Sometimes governing can be a bit of a challenge, but I know I’m very new to this too; I intend to keep working my hardest to maintain peace and prosperity in the area.”

“That’s a fine sentiment, I’m sure you’ll prove more than capable. I’m happy to recommend books or advisors, if there’s anything in particular that’s been confusing you of late. I know answers can seem elusive, given the short time you’ve had to prepare.”

“I would appreciate that very much, Your Majesty! What do you think--”

Their conversation went on for some time, as Byleth told Dedue about the flowers--originally from Duscur--that were thriving in the carefully cultivated greenhouse at Garreg Mach. They chatted for some time when she asked about their significance within Duscur’s culture, relieved to see him talk about the past more readily than he ever had. 

At some point amidst the conversation Ingrid joined in on the festivities, extending her apologies for being wrapped up in business on behalf of House Galatea. She was met with open acceptance about it all, the burden of her house heavy on her shoulders. Her father had continued to pressure her towards marriage with other nobles, but she seemed much more content to operate in service to her own territory. Felix remarked with approval on her decision to stay true to herself, with ample encouragement from Annette as well--though Felix couldn’t resist the suggestion to spar.

“Should have known you lot would get started without us,” Sylvain’s wry voice sounded from the entrance to the room, trademark grin for all to see with his arms folded behind his head. “Hey there, Your Majesty. Your Grace, everyone.”

“Maybe if you showed up on time, we would have bothered to wait for you,” Felix rolled his eyes. 

“Apologies for our late arrival, it’s wonderful to see you all! Thank you for agreeing to come today.” Mercedes, ever placid, smiled at everyone.

“Not at all, welcome, both of you.” Dimitri shook his head, “But, why…?” His gaze swept around the room to everyone gathered, no particular reason for it apparent even now.

“You still haven’t figured it out, Your Majesty?” Sylvain shot him a disbelieving look, “it’s officially the sixth year anniversary since the ball; when we all promised to get together again. We just decided to keep up the tradition somewhere a little more convenient for everyone to gather, that’s all.”

When understanding dawned on Dimitri’s face for the first time that evening, laughter and indulgent smiles filled the room.

“Tch, it’s just like you, boar, to be so absorbed in what you’re doing that you don’t even realize what day it is. Just sit down and relax for five minutes, it won’t kill you.”

Dimitri looked around the room to see everyone enjoying the moment once again. Annette and Mercedes giddy in conversation, Ashe and Ingrid discussing the newest chivalric tale with enthusiasm, all while Sylvain and Felix eyed him knowingly. “I’m sorry, I should have--”

“Don’t apologize,” Byleth interjected softly, “I wanted it to be a surprise.” At the sound of her voice, the other conversations petered off, all attention on her. “You’ve all been working so hard lately, I thought it would be a nice change of pace for one night. I wanted you all to take a moment to remember where you started, to see how much you’ve grown. And of course, to keep looking after each other no matter how many years or miles begin to separate you.” 

“Aw, professor!” Annette rushed from where she was standing to hug Byleth, everyone a little shocked but no less heartened at the sight. 

“Group hug!” Mercedes called out excitedly, moving faster than anyone had ever seen to their side. 

It was only a matter of time before everyone was rising with a chuckle to join in, contented miens so much like the bright--though troubled--faces of the adolescents of six years ago. Grumbles and giggles filled the air, warmth suffusing her from all sides. There were still plenty of hardships to make them weary, and enough concerns about the future to keep them up at night, but they seemed to stand taller now. Part of it was surreal, to see how much they’d grown--yet still sought her advice and affection. But she filled them with a happy nostalgia even he couldn’t deny, heart overflowing with happiness that they could do this again. For all that they’d lost, for all that they’d seen and suffered, this remained--and he could only find relief in his heart at the sight of that undeniable fact. 

As they were disentangling themselves and returning to their seats, Sylvain caught sight of an emerald flash on Byleth’s hand, whistling. “Damn, professor, that was fast! Who’s the lucky guy?”

Every eye boomeranged to Byleth once again--though this time for an entirely different reason, eager--and Dimitri’s face colored immediately. Before he could think of what to say, she reached out to take his ringed hand in her own, intertwining their fingers. Their rings lined up together and gleamed in the light, a pair. 

“Oh my! Dimitri, is it true?” 

“Indeed it is, Mercedes.”

“I didn’t think he had it in him! It’s only been three weeks!” Sylvain moaned, placing a small pouch in Felix’s waiting hand, accompanied by a suspicious jingle of coins.

“Then you weren’t paying attention. Never underestimate the boar. He’s been making sickening eyes at her since the day they met.”

“Congratulations, both of you!” Ingrid knocked their heads together, angry mumbles following the thud of skulls crashing together.

“Thank you, Ingrid.”

“That’s wonderful news, have you decided on a date for the wedding?” Ashe asked, cheeks pink from all the excitement.

“We wanted to wait for things to settle down a bit before announcing the marriage, given the very tentative peace that’s been established.” Dimitri managed to convey calmly, though his gaze kept straying to the floor. He had no qualms about revealing Byleth to be the woman of his dreams, but the knowing looks were a bit much. He was endlessly glad he’d made his proposal in the privacy of the Goddess Tower, otherwise they never would have let him live it down.

“Dedue, you dog, did you know about this?”

Dedue smiled at Sylvain and shrugged, more carefree than they’d ever seen him. “I’m afraid His Majesty’s personal affairs are not mine to disclose.”

“Man, you better give him a hard time for me now and again, he doesn’t know how good he has it.”

“I would never dream of it.”

Felix disappeared into another room and returned with a number of very fine, very aged wines for them all--mumbling something about properly celebrating their engagement--and Dimitri prepared himself for the inevitable questioning to come. Mercedes and Annette had already quarantined Byleth to ask for details, tittering and sighs sounding from the little gaggle.

“When did you propose!” Sylvain demanded, not even bothering with pleasantries. Felix poured the remaining glasses of wine for them, setting each down with deliberate disinterest. But he made no move to leave the discussion.

“A few nights after the final battle. Is this really necessary, Sylvain?” Dimitri stared into his glass, proverbially dragging his feet.

“I just want to know how you managed it, Mr. I-give-daggers-to-women-I-like.” He swirled the wine in the glass, throwing one hand over Dimitri’s shoulder. “Let alone  _ succeeded _ \--”

“Well now you’re just being gauche. Though I will admit, I’m not much of a charmer.” He smiled ruefully into the glass, grateful she was no less happy to meet him halfway. “I’m a lucky man, by all accounts.”

“Knowing you, you just pulled out the ring and waited to see how she would react, didn’t you?”

His guilty silence--and inability to think of an improved scenario quick enough--was his undoing.

“You have  _ got _ to be kidding me. Your Majesty, please, tell me you didn’t!”

“Well, how else would you do it?” Felix wondered, “Either she says yes or no, and that’s the end of it.”

Burgeoning horror marked Sylvain’s expression, appalled at both of them. “This is what happens when you’re so obsessed with fighting you can’t even spare a thought for a woman’s sensibilities.” 

“Sensibilities? The professor was a mercenary since who knows when, I doubt it mattered all that much.”

“And this is exactly why you’re going to die alone.”

“Says the one that lives in the most remote part of Fodlan, and can’t keep his eyes on one woman for more than a minute.”

He let them bicker for a while, glad he was removed from the hot seat but wondering if he had left Byleth feeling bereft of delicacy that day. She hadn’t seemed upset or disappointed, to the contrary; she was very affectionate with him, more than he anticipated for someone known to be so stoic and solitary. And perhaps more than he deserved, given everything that had transpired.

He indulged in some of the wine, refocusing on the conversation when Felix asked him about his current training regimen. He’d have to broach the topic with her later.

* * *

It wasn’t long at all before the night grew late and the early hours of the following morning were upon them. 

“You sure, Boar King? You’re more than welcome to stay the night.” 

“Thank you, Felix, but--”

“Sophia is definitely going to be upset if I don’t check on her soon. She doesn’t much like unfamiliar places.” Byleth explained. It was a much better excuse than he had lined up, so he nodded.

“That cranky old wyvern?” Felix snickered, delighted. “Give her hi from me, would you? She was the only decent lizard in that monastery.”

“Of course,” Byleth grinned back. “Thank you for inviting us, Felix. Be well.”

“Don’t mention it,” he waved them off. “You just owe me a duel the next time you’re here.”

“You got it.”

Dedue wasn’t far behind them, offering his farewells and preparing to return to the castle with them. As they crossed the endless span of the midnight sky, Byleth lit a flame to guide them--hand extended to the sky. Bathed in the yellow light, it was a fitting way to end a night of nostalgic festivities. Forever their guiding beacon, she towered in their lives--irreplaceable, and for a long time in his view, unreachable. 

The day’s excitement bled into fatigue as they tethered their horses and checked on Sophia, who was content to sleep knowing Byleth’s presence had returned to the castle. They bid Dedue good night, and his feet moved to his own chambers without thinking. He made it to the door before he realized his mistake, turning abruptly. 

“Er, did you want to stay with me tonight, or a guest room? I’m sorry, I--”

She laughed at how frazzled he was from the exhaustion, completely unperturbed by his assumption. “I’d be happy to spend the night with you, if you feel comfortable with that.”

Oh, thank the goddess.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little nervous about this one, but hopefully you guys enjoy it! (Dimitri forgive my hands for they have sinned) this one's a little R-rated so if ppl want to skip/avoid the smutty bits you can skip to the ***** (enter it w control+F) for the softe fluff at the end
> 
> There are only two constants in this world my desire to cherish Dimitri and my desire to lovingly bang him, ty for coming to my ted talk everyone
> 
> I present this offering among the multitudes of Dimileth thirsters

He opened the door to reveal his fairly modest and bare furnishings, most of them his father’s. There was a bureau for his clothing, a small night stand, a few bookshelves, and swords primarily used for display--some for decoration, others combat. The room was painted with pale and navy blues, gold embellishments appearing here and there (he’d left it to the restoration team to decide). And then of course, was the canopy bed; several times bigger than anything he’d had at the monastery. 

Frozen with anticipation, she reached for his hand and squeezed it again. She didn’t let go until he met her gaze, the picture of serenity. “Deep breaths, Dimitri. I promise we don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. I just figured it would be nice to spend the night together after so long apart. If we do anything more than that, it’s because we agreed to it first, okay?”

He wasn’t sure how he felt--too hot and too cold all at the same time, and so suddenly. Memories of a time he’d thought were long beyond his reach came surfacing again, long since stifled desires. He’d promised himself after the tragedy that he would never promise to marry anyone because of the nature of his position, and if he did it would only be to further the royal line. He never expected he would find somebody he was ready to share his life with, somebody he trusted to understand him--even if he didn’t always understand himself. 

He trusted her implicitly, irrevocably--to an extent that scared him a little. 

But the gentle, patient smile on her face made every fear pale and wither to nothing, weaker even than the eternal specters crying at his feet. She reached out to unbutton his cloak, pausing to let him stop her if he so desired. 

He didn’t.

Her hands did not tremble as she set it on the back of a nearby chair, meticulous as ever. She stroked the insignia absently, the blue lion roaring.

“I never dreamed something like this would be possible.” He was speaking before he could even think of what to say, a surreal phenomenon he only ever experienced with her. Granted he didn’t premeditate quite so much as he used to, but he typically considered what he wanted to say very carefully. “That I would live in the castle again. That _ you _ would be alive...that you would be by my side...”

She returned to him in a few long strides, beginning work at his chestplate.

“I meant what I said,” when she looked at him inquisitively in the middle of undoing the latches of his armor, he clarified. “That night, six years ago, in the Goddess Tower. I meant it. Every word of it.”

Her eyes widened, and he blushed. “I’m sure I seemed like a moonstruck, thoughtless child. But even then, I needed you. Even then...I...I _ wanted _ you.”

He waited for the disgust, for the reprimand she’d been forced to give him all those years ago. He didn’t remotely hold it against her. He’d been a student at the time, and in no position to approach her that way. But for all his timorous hesitations, it was among the few things he never regretted in the five years she was lost. It was the first time his heart had ever led him right.

But this time her eyes merely darkened, desire making her breath catch. She managed to remove the armor covering his chest and arms, setting it aside deftly as she worked his gloves off.

“How did you want me?”

He shuddered at the dual sensation of her palming the fabric of his black turtleneck, her whisper ringing in his ears. How did he want her? Old fantasies revived anew. 

“I wanted to kiss every inch of you, mark every visible spot on your body...so that the other students would know where to keep their eyes.” The last part came out as a semi-growl, his voice rumbling low. She was never lacking in admirers, Byleth; and for good reason. “I dreamt of being able to indulge in every dip and curve and swell. To take my time,” he swallowed thickly, hands at her hips trembling as she undid the armor around his legs. “To know your body even better than I knew my own.”

In those days he’d imagined discovering just how warm another person could be, the thought of nuzzling against her or napping against the pliant stretch of her stomach and thighs in his selfish moments. His dreams were plagued by the thought of her legs dangling over his shoulders, or wrapped around his waist--heels digging into his back as his pace grew torturous. Clinging to him, moaning for him, needing him as desperately as he needed her. He’d buried those thoughts so deeply he’d almost forgotten they existed, silenced under the weight of her presumed death and the beginning of the war. 

Her hand pressed against his now unconcealed hard-on and he groaned, armor cast aside. “Is that all?”

He shook his head, pulling her body close enough to feel the overheated overlap of skin, eye sliding shut at the strange--but coveted--sensation. “Sometimes I dreamt of existing only to give you pleasure,” he let his hands wander, relishing the way her head fell back when he squeezed her thigh. He let his thumb trace the seam where her leg met her hip. “Sometimes that thought alone was the only thing that kept me moving forward.”

His confession left him feeling a little exposed, a little embarrassed. "I know it was wrong, but I--" Perhaps he shouldn't have--

She ground their hips together--relieving them both with the friction, his thoughts dissolving. "I'd always wondered why people bothered to get so close," she explained, "why they might _ want _ to be so close to someone. I'd never felt the urge, never wanted such things."

"Until you." The throaty whisper was his undoing, every inch of him aflame. 

He scooped her up and they both kicked off their boots at the edge of the bed, his lips unable to find her skin fast enough. She giggled breathlessly as he brushed his lips against every part of her he could reach; under her jaw, on both sides of her tassel, between the armor along her arms, and all over her stomach--enjoying the gasp that accompanied a careful nip. He moved back up to kiss her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose.

At the corner of her lips, he murmured the words, unable to help himself. “I love you.”

Her lips found his, sighing contentedly as his hands found the buttons at the back of her collar. “I love you, too.”

She helped him unlatch her armor and undo the ties of her coat, sneaking kisses in between each part they managed to remove until she too was nearly bare beneath him. He marveled at the pale scars that dotted her body; some longer, some deeper, some thin and shining. The story of her life was mapped all along her skin--just as varied and intricate as his own. And something about that fact made him relax, made this feel all the more right than it already had. 

They were alike, in a fashion. 

“Beautiful,” he mouthed too low for her to hear, tracing each one with his hands, committing her to memory.

Her hands snuck under his shirt to trace the skin beneath, sultry as she dragged her nails and bit her lip. When she tugged at the hem, he retreated long enough to remove it and toss it aside--enjoying the way she swallowed thickly, eyes roving over him. He wanted her, to be sure, but it was another thing entirely to see her marvel at him too, leaning forward to trace each scar with her lips. It made him feel ticklish and warm at first, until she began to suck at the skin in places--leaving behind heated little marks that made his breathing hitch. He was torn between paying enough attention to reciprocate and closing his eyes, marveling that the exquisite sting was real. 

When she was satisfied, her breathing was a little shallow, one hand pinching his left nipple until a gasp left him--goosebumps alighting across his chest. He ground his hips against hers desperately, groaning as the electric sensation pooled low. “I wanted to see you just like this,” she breathed in his ear, so quiet but with the same, frenzied intensity he knew her capable of. “Pink with pleasure, dazed from lust. Wanted you to be able to think of me and _ only _ me.”

His reply was broken, his face burning as he sank against her shoulder. “That last part is easier than you think.” Bubbly laughter tremored against him before it became a shocked moan, an entirely new pitch he’d never heard before. He’d cupped her sex through damp panties, pressing the heel of his palm against her clit.

He wanted more.

Her hands tangled in his hair as he took his turn scattering marks everywhere he could reach, nipping at her wrists and sucking at the slope of her breasts--palming one and squeezing it carefully in his hand. “Ngh!” A muffled sound of encouragement caught in her throat, nails digging into his arms as her hips pushed against his. He kept leaving marks everywhere--her body shining with the exertion--when he tentatively took a taut nipple in his mouth.

“Dimitri!” His name was a wild cry as he lashed at her with a heated tongue, so abandoned and so lost that he throbbed painfully. 

What was a man to do, when reality was better than dreams?

His fingers curled around her tights and pulled them down, too feverish to realize his grip had already poked holes in the delicate threading. She gasped when his hand slipped under her panties, squirming and he paused--looking to her. A little dazed, when she realized what he was waiting for she pulled him down for a deep kiss. Tongues twined and she cradled his head, reluctant to let him go despite her already beestung lips.

“Of course you can; go ahead, Dimitri.”

Slick met the pads of his fingers as he reached down, her sex dripping with it as she arched into him. One finger slid inside easily, and he bit his lip at how hot she was inside--how she clung to him and twitched when he added a second finger--slowly, cautiously. He knew very little beyond what he had reluctantly learned living near Sylvain, an unwilling victim to the young man’s insistent teachings. The palm of his hand dragged across her clit as he thrust his fingers back inside, stretching her carefully and he startled at the sound she made--the way her folds pulsed around him. 

She showed him how to pinch and roll that little apex of pleasure, and he marveled at the way she writhed when he did. Eventually her shock shifted to impatience as he filled her steadily, fingers unbuttoning his pants and seeking him--tugging at him--when a swift pinch to her clit made them spasm and curl along his hips, clinging to him like a lifeline. He watched in awe as her back arched and her eyes fell closed, every part of her body taut with wild abandon. Lost in the throes of pleasure, she was utterly breathtaking.

“Dimitri...” she took his face in her hands again, gaze hooded, thumb brushing against his eyepatch. She made a throaty sound that left him shuddering when he pulled out of her. 

She outlined the fabric gently with her fingertips, unmistakably tender. For all his clumsy attempts tonight, her body hummed with satisfaction--was eager for more, as she drew shapes along his back. The strange looping lines made little sense to him until he realized she was drawing the Crest that he’d seen pulse violet along the back of her hand so many times, over and over along his shoulder blades. Like she was marking him regardless of where this next moment might take them, content with the simple gesture. Something about how casually she accepted him as her own--whatever his faults, whatever his hesitations--was heady, and grounding beyond all measure. 

This was where he belonged. This, right here, was where he was meant to be. Whatever the past, whatever he’d done and seen and lost and suffered--all of it had led him here, to the most radiant being Fodlan ever had the privilege to know. That _ he _had ever had the privilege to know.

Finally, he nodded, with mild trepidation. He’d seen his reflection in enough rivers and lakes to know he looked utterly gruesome. His eye was downcast as she undid the tie to his eyepatch, catching it as it fell and setting it aside. A long, deep scar marked where his eye had been skewered; his eyelid sewn shut to keep the cavity clean. She was silent for a long time, a featherlight touch tracing the raised skin over and over as he tried to smile humorlessly.

“It’s all right, it doesn’t hurt anym--”

When he managed to face her directly again tears were spilling down both her temples, so much pain in her eyes--rather than revulsion--her brows tightly drawn. She pulled him to her and held him tight, more expressive than he’d ever seen her before. She sniffled as he stroked at her back gently, torn between regretting the hurt it caused her and the selfish warmth that flooded him to know he was so cherished. Would miracles never cease?

When her lips found his again, her touch was fierce and heated, rolling them over and taking hold of his erection. He gasped as she positioned him against her, biting his lip to bleeding as she worked him inside. White encroached on his vision at the sudden sensation--so, so hot and tight, even as she took him in deeper--adjusting as she gyrated her hips. The sight of her moving on him was mesmerizing, determination and love burning in her gaze. Leaving him no time to recover she withdrew only to take him again to the hilt this time, his grunt of shock overlapping with her gratified moan. 

Over and over, she took him again and again, their kisses growing messier and sharper with each thrust. She pressed her fingers into the marks she’d made along his body, making them ache anew as he squeezed her breasts--tugging her as close to him as possible.

He worked to keep up with her, rolling her clit with each greedy slide of her body against his--the coiling heat building in his abdomen making it harder and harder to concentrate. His name fell from her lips in broken syllables and foreign pitches, just as he gasped and groaned hers in return. As he neared his end, legs trembling, he took her hips in a vice grip and shoved inside until she came with a scream shortly after he did--the convulsing of her sex endless as he matched it with coiling jets of heat.

  
  
******  
  


She collapsed against him and he nuzzled his face into her shoulder, enjoying the solid weight of her--the only thing to assure him that this was all real. They were both breathing hard as the darkening spots clouding their vision and the aftershocks ebbed, nerve endings tingling from the pleasure wrought. He couldn’t remember ever feeling like this--as though he were boneless, in which the line between reality and sensation immutably blurred. 

He could feel her arms tighten around his waist suddenly. “Byleth?”

“Mm?” she pressed her body close to his, rubbing her cheek against the crown of his head affectionately. He almost laughed at how much she reminded him of a big, contented cat.

“You’re all right?”

Her forefinger traced the length of his spine with distinct intent, loving and sensual all at the same time. “The best I’ve ever been,” she sighed contentedly, voice a little hoarse.

Color suffused his face, hoping she wasn’t saying that just to put him at ease. “I didn’t hurt you?”

She tugged at the burning tip of his ear with her teeth, nearly making him jump. The light pressure had done things to him he’d never conceived might be possible, his next breath choked. Would she be upset with him if he asked her to do that again next time? Er, if she wanted a next time, that is.

“Just fine, and you?”

“I don’t think I want to go another day without you in my bed, beloved.”

She laughed at that, though he was sure it probably seemed petulant. He was a man now, for the goddess’ sake; he should know better than to be so clingy. But he couldn’t get the notion out of his head. To hear her voice like that for him alone, to enjoy the soft warmth of her skin as he was now, to wake up every morning to the sight of jade tresses strewn about his pillow. Perhaps this _ had _ been a mistake, any fortitude to bear the necessity of living apart for a short while waning. 

“I was just thinking the same thing.” Her lips were silk against his, like flowing water molding to his shape.

He held her tight--the tightest he had ever dared with another person, but she just calmly rested her head against his. “Thank you.” 

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the glint of her ring at his shoulder and he remembered his slip up earlier, shrinking a bit. “Er, Byleth?”

She looked at him curiously, a little drowsy as she’d been close to drifting off, though his gaze remained averted. He wanted to ask before he lost all courage to broach the topic.

“Did...when I proposed to you, that is...were you--was I--”

Her head tilted to the side, and he fought to find the right way to ask.

“Did I leave you wanting at all, in terms of custom or delicacy? I was so fraught with the mere prospect of asking that I hadn’t taken much care to do it properly, did I? If I upset you at all, I’m deeply sorry.”

She blinked and stared for a bit before she smiled, a little grin that reached her eyes--the same one that had left him awe-inspired but five years ago--curling her lips. The same one that made him begin to question everything, that made the claws of revenge weaken their vice grip. Something he’d decided was worth protecting--worth living for; something that made the desperate voices ebb no matter how brief. If the war had nearly brought about his end, she had brought about a new beginning--one he’d thought would forever be out of his reach.

“Sylvain chewed you out, didn’t he? Of course not,” she shrugged, “You know I’ve never really been one for formalities and the like, and I was more than ready to ask the same of you myself. I was delighted we were on the same page. If anything; a little worried a marriage to a commoner might prove too much to ask given your position.”

He was surprised she was worried about that, given his general contempt for value judgements based on lineage. And the fact that she never really factored things like that into her decision-making, beyond tactical necessities. Wasn’t she...more concerned with what had happened in the time of her absence? With the foolish things he’d said and done in the name of those lost? He didn’t give a single damn about the court or its vast array of tradition-tied nobles; for her, he would do anything. If being with her meant facing their doubts and their constant berating, he considered it a small price to pay for a future they had never been guaranteed. One that they had forged in their own toil and blood. If he had but one life to give, it belonged to Byleth--as surely as she had offered him hers in return without reserve.

He took her hand to press a gentle kiss to the ring, serious in his vow. He wanted there to be no uncertainties about this. If he could alleviate them, he would do his utmost. “I could never, ever be ashamed to call you what you are, beloved. I don’t care what anyone else has to say about it; so long as _ you _ are happy--if you can smile by my side--that’s all that matters to me.” 

Her eyes gleamed anew, but the tears didn’t fall this time. He kissed her eyelids and she squeezed his hand, lips trembling.

“Besides you know full well Dedue has a _ mean _ glare. I imagine he’ll put it to good use when the time comes.”

They both laughed at that, the pale gray of dawn already heralding morning. Exhaustion found them easy prey to sleep, and it would be the late afternoon sun that would find them intertwined and undisturbed when it came time for them to wake, hand-in-hand.


End file.
